There is no tomorrow for them who are dying,

a sleepless wanderer seeking for its soul

asking for forgiveness.

Promises left within to die in the wind blown away..

DL

CHEYENNE

They trade

hopes in trust..

Like their breath whispers a thousand  lies,

the break of dawn shines through their promises they attack,

no one spare a shine of light,

everyone has to die..

Soldiers drunk by whiskey within hate and anger

fire their arms.

Killed by them who didn’t understand

A sound of madness shouted out loud

buried so deep in an evil silence,

dies within last cries.

Sounds of horses

touches the ground...

DL

DL

Our land is our soul, we treasure what mother nature provided for us,
honoring our gift to walk through her creations of beauty..
The great one gave us our life to walk on this earth in hope we
always keep her safe...

Thousands of years
 we kept our promises

500 years ago
we welcomed them into our garden of truth...

Our land...

No one speaks the words of the past anymore
mother nature poisoned dying...

Our future, 
no less, no more
we died for what is truly ours..

Some of us burried by the bullets, unarmed in a massacre in anger
some in hunger in a walk in a dead landscape
without water.

Our history is ours
truly ours..

Native Americans


                                                                      

By Dennis Lindeblad

Once we lived free…         

In our own way we created our future,

in our dreams we honoured them who brings us shelter,

our tears rides in the wind for the lost of and without forgiveness for the young ones

who died

for nothing..

Our pray…

Mother nature please forgive us for our sins

nurse for our women and children and our people,

father send us peace and health for the future,

don’t let us die in vain..

Oh great spirit let us walk in your beauty once again free..

Our land is poisoned with greed without understanding

dying in need,

there is no drums of joy

no sacred hearts protecting who we once were

is forever lost…

don’t let our children forget to be proud

remembering who they truly are…

White mans greed

like a dinosaur

Ends…
By Dennis Lindeblad

By Dennis Lindeblad
The grass grows like it will every year waiting to feed the buffalos

mother earth is tired of listening of long lost souls who is dying..

promised land grows in blood,

honour and defeat lay its hand over thousand of years of harmony

in respect remembering,

People who died fighting..

The great spirit let them into his world

honouring them..

Tears of rain cries

with its thunder in lightning

reminding us we are only guests in this world…

All our memories thoughts spoken words and action

lives in mother earth to be remembered..




 

Wounded knee     By Dennis Lindeblad

The beast leaves his horse reaches for his gun

two bullets ,

her baby died in her arms..

Men riding thru firing their arms chasing desperate

people ,crawling thru dirt asking for their life’s

Soldier in blue rise his sword slips throats of children,

thinks his a better man…

Burning shelter without fear ..

Solider poisoned its land

with its act..

Voices of wounded knee

No better war than

unarmed without arms to protect them selves.

Who can call him self a man

honouring his uniform,

buried them in a mass grave with no respect.

after two days

Let us remember them who died in fear

Their souls

died for us to remembering

their life’s





LAKOTA  By Dennis Lindeblad
My soul is empty without answers, our hopes and dreams vanished.

our promises our truth our heritage.

They tell us to give up our guns and they provide for our needs..

how can they ?

they hate us for what we are ..

They want us to give up what makes us men ,to provide for our families..

Their people learned us to long for things we wouldn’t dream of,

they gave us things we didn’t ask for..

Like a broken marriage they took our land and left us in sickness without health.

We made our promises and kept them into our heart learned our children

the way of natures band.

We were to many to kill , our needs, our families, our buffalos.

painted into the ground,

in blood

Our great leaders with wisdom hunted down

just kill them for what they are..

Our starvation is another word for reservation .

Id like to die like I was born

free..



Written by Dennis Lindeblad

Words written

like a leaf in the wind

flies

with it's emptiness..

Shadows, fur fills in the shades

of darkness....

Tears ride in the wind

of thunder and lightening.

Souls seeking shelter

afraid of answers bitten by the wind...

A taste of a wonderful dream

smiles.

A man who remembers

talking about the future..

A man who can't hear

rises his voice

without answers...

The unforgiving ones walk

in a nightmare..

Never to be forgiven..

Them who whispers

won't be heard..

Cut me and I bleed.



Truth     Written by Dennis Lindeblad

A Man came to us with hope

There is nothing,

put in reservation

forbidden.

Our past...

Walks the line to get blankets,

with nothing to eat,

children walk in hunger

dies.

Buffalo hunters made theirself a fortune

selling only the skin..

In hunger we dance for a better life..

Troops hunting our last people in freedom..

Soldiers

we gave up our guns..

In their hearts they're seeking revenge of a mad man

killing us all.

Our souls rise through the sky in spirits

They are not human

only mad men.

Our frozen hearts published

burried in mass graves with no honour.

Their medals 

speak of murders

honoured by their community..

Wounded Knee.